


Life's Just A Pace-Car On Death

by poisonyouth (elx)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Creatures, Depression, Flashbacks, Fluff, Funeral, Hell, I actually wrote smut wow, I feel the tags make it sound worse/more exciting than it is, Loss, M/M, Peterick, Post-Hiatus, Smut, So be warned, Suicidal Thoughts, also smut, comforting andy and joe, eyyy meagan's joined the party, hints of panic, mentioned anxiety attack, more tagging as I go along, pete feels guilty, platonic though - Freeform, this gets sad ok if you only want the fluff stop reading after pete contemplates infinity on high, this is gonna turn into fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elx/pseuds/poisonyouth
Summary: “Look, Pete, I know you two were together, hell, you were more than that, you were best friends. We were all rooting for you, you know how I am – was… with Patrick, how protective. But you made him happy, you really did and I don’t think you could have done any better than that.” Pete swallowed the lump in his throat. “But he was my friend too. He’d want you to get up and carry on, Pete, he wouldn’t wanna see you locked away up here, on your own.”“Yeah well, he’s not here is he?” Pete muttered in response. Joe sighed heavily. “I know, I know he isn’t” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I miss him, too, Pete.”“You weren’t gonna marry him.”Just when everything seems to be going better than it possibly could, it goes to hell. For some more literally than others.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The first bit is just fluff and smut minus the angst if you only wanna read that:)





	1. Me And You, Setting In A Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys :) I'm actually working on something else but this popped into my head and I wanted to get it done quickly. Ok, if you only want fluffy/smutty Peterick, STOP reading after the squiggly lines (I hate interruptions like that but I feel it's necessary).  
> Let me know if you like it. (And like I said in the tags, it's KINDA gonna turn into fantasy-ish stuff)

Pete kissed the corner of his grinning mouth, tasting the sweat on his skin. He had an arm slung around Patrick's shoulder as they walked off stage, the crowd was still echoing in their ears when they climbed onto the bus. The second the door had slid shut behind them, Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete's neck and pressed the bodies together, energy radiating off him. Pete held him tightly.

Patrick pulled away, a broad grin still fixed on his face. Pete loved the spark that always danced in his eyes after a good show. "God, I am so happy we're doing this again!" Pete nodded in agreement. "Me too." They'd been saying this, exactly this, for three years now, ever since they reformed, it was almost like a ritual. Patrick's face scrunched up adorably as he bent forward and placed a kiss on Pete's nose, who chuckled in response. "I'm taking a shower" the shorter man decided, hopping off towards the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus, "don't walk in on me!"  
It was tempting, but Pete was honestly too tired at the moment. He slumped onto the couch and flicked the TV remote until he landed on some brainless channel airing some brainless show he could watch without having to think about anything but how happy he was right now.  
He could hear the water running at the back of their bus and smiled to himself when Patrick started singing Tom Waits at the top of his probably more than two lungs. He really needed a shower himself if he was perfectly honest, but he just couldn't be bothered. At all. Not a bit.

He ended up doing just that, anyway, because Patrick, hair wet and scruffy, a pink towel wrapped around his waist, physically pushed him into the bathroom, stripped him down and shoved him into a way too hot jet of water. "Put something nice on, I have a surprise!"  
Pete was both intrigued and mildly irritated by that. He liked Patrick's surprises, they were way better than his surprises, which usually consisted of out-of-the-blue very-nsfw sex, maybe the occasional poem, but Patrick hadn't complained about that so far, so he guessed he was good.

"Something nice" meant a button-down and a pair of black jeans in Pete's book, the dark-blue suit and black bow-tie Patrick was sporting was "very nice," but Pete did a double-take at the sight of his boyfriend wearing fancy clothes, his hat and glasses. The watch - the "special occasions"-watch - Pete had got him for his 30th birthday was clasped around his wrist. Pete fumbled for the suit he'd brought with him - a dark-grey one complete with a red tie - and pulled it on, eyes only leaving Patrick when they really, really had to. He still thought he looked weird in a suit.

Pete spun around to see Patrick still fidgeting with his hair in the mirror and walked up to him. He wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and nuzzled his neck. _You look perfect_. Patrick sighed and turned to face him. "Ready?"

They walked to wherever it was they were going, hand-in-hand, along a street lit by pretty lamps that had been designed to resemble old-fashioned gaslights. It was a nice area of town, and there weren't many people out, obviously, it was 11 p. m., which had Pete wondering where on earth they were headed, dressed to the nines, accompanied by the "special occasions"-watch.

Patrick eventually dragged them into a small, un-seeming place, one of those isla-de-muerta things you didn't know existed unless you... well, knew it existed.  
It turned out to be a little French restaurant that, for some reason, still sat them down at a table in the corner away from the only other couple in there, despite the insane time.  
The food was expensive. The wine Patrick ordered even more so. Pete sure as hell hoped he wouldn't be the one paying. Then again, he'd been invited.

After ordering a dent into Patrick's bank account, Pete bent over and said, in a low voice, "Okay, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Patrick smiled. "Aren't I allowed to spoil the man I love once in a while?" Pete felt blood rising to his face, "Yeah, obviously, I mean, I'm not complaining, but like... this is special, even for you."  
Patrick didn't look up from his fidgeting hands resting on the table. _Why was he so nervous?_ "I'm a millionaire, Pete, I can afford to spoil you." 

"Patrick, c'mon, tell me what I'm missing." Patrick sighed and finally met his eyes, but he was smiling. "I wasn't gonna mention the fact that it's our anniversary because I know you've forgotten," _oh shit._ "but it's fine Pete, really, it's okay, I know what I got myself into with you, and I'm not mad or even slightly bothered, which is why I didn't remind you. I just wanted to spoil you," he added quickly as he saw Pete's face drop at the realization. "Patrick I am so sorry I'm the world's shittiest boyfriend! You'd think after five years I'd remember, but-"  
"Pete, really, it's fine, let's just... enjoy the meal." Pete wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "guess I'll have to come up with a really good surprise later," Patrick turned fifty shades of crimson and he his his face behind his hands. "Peeeete! Not here" he complained, but he was giggling like a 16-year-old girl.

He would've made a few more inappropriate comments to go with his hand brushing Patrick's knee under the table, but he was interrupted by two plates of steaming food. Although the fact that they were eating didn't stop Pete from letting his foot wander up and down his partner's calf. Patrick was struggling not to react, and Pete could tell. What was more, he loved it.  
They didn't talk much, Patrick was still fidgety, and Pete didn't wanna ask about it, in case it was something that could lead to an anxiety attack, they'd deal with it later, when they weren't in public.

But when dessert came, that became irrelevant.

Pete was babbling on about some movie or other he'd watched with Joe the other day, making a right mess of the perfectly-presented multi-layered custardy-creamy pudding whilst Patrick was quietly eating away at his crême brulée, when suddenly something clinked against the bottom of the glass. Pete frowned down at it and his heart fluttered when he realized what it was. Patrick looked absolutely terrified as he fished out the silver band hidden at the bottom of his pudding. It was just a simple, plain ring, but it did have a small diamond enclosed in it. "Umh, so..." Pete looked at his boyfriend fumbling for words. "I guessed now was a good a time as any to... like, pop the question... I mean, not that you have to say yes or anything, I just thought I might, umh... will y-"

"Yes." the word had left his mouth before Patrick had even finished. "God damn it you tiny beautiful little man, yes." Patrick's whole body relaxed as relief washed over his features. “Umh, do you want me to?” he holds out a hand and Pete pops the ring in it, offering his fourth finger of his left hand for Patrick to slip it on.  
“I know it seems a little cheesy and uhm, it was hard to find one that would suit you like, but I wanted to I felt it was appropriate.”  
Pete took his boyfriend’s hand in his and stroked his knuckles. “Patrick, I love it, I really do.”  
Boyfriend?  
_Fiancé_.

Pete grinned at the realization and Patrick smiled at him awkwardly in return. “We’re getting married!” The blonde fringe bobbed as he nodded his head in agreement “I guess we are.” Pete bent over the table, not caring about the fact that his tie was dangling in his wine – it was red, anyway – and gently kissed him. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he waved for the waitress.  
Patrick frowned. “You wanna leave already?”  
Pete lowered his voice as he leaned in a little closer “I just wanna get you back on that bus where nobody will bother us.” Patrick shivered as Pete brushed his thigh with his fingers.  
“Congratulations!” the brunette sounded chirpy as she slid the bill in front of Patrick’s nose, who immediately focused all his attention on getting his wallet out of his pocket, but Pete could see the flush on the tips of his ears. He placed a few big bills on the tray – Pete did his best to not count how much – and hastily got up to put on his overcoat. He was already halfway out of the door when Pete finally had his own on and jigged towards him to catch up.

Once they were outside and the door had swung shut behind them, Pete wrapped an arm around Patrick’s lower back and another around the back of his head before pushing him backwards and hovering his face above him. He looked even paler in the darkness, blue eyes glistening up at him, face straight, lips parted. Pete bent down and gently kissed them. Then a little harder, linking their mouths as their tongues toyed with each other.

He was gonna have this forever.

He felt so happy.

Patrick’s glasses were sat crooked on his nose when Pete hauled him back up, and he poked them back into place with his index finger, smiling shyly. Pete offered his arm and Patrick swung his own around it, practically gluing himself to his side as they walked back towards the parking lot where the buses were standing. They didn’t talk much, but Pete couldn’t stop looking at the silver ring on his finger. He should get Patrick one. He’d sneak off at the next opportunity to have a look.

Patrick leaned against the door of their bus once it closed behind him, biting his bottom lip teasingly, giving Pete _the look_. “Don’t…”

“Or what?” Patrick wiggled his eyebrows. “Or I might just have to attack you.”  
He cracked a smile, “attack! Attack!” _Game Of Thrones reference, nice._ Pete felt heat rising in his groin as he moved towards Patrick, who was giggling again. He put his hands against the door above their heads and bent in until their faces were inches apart. Patrick was still biting his lip. “Hmm, maybe I won’t give you that satisfaction,” Pete watched the cheeky expression slide off his man’s – _his_ man’s – face and his lips part and eyebrows pull into a frown as he reached out his hand and grabbed his crotch through his trousers. Patrick’s breath hitched and Pete could tell he was trying to suppress a whimper, the kind he always made when he was getting turned on. Pete slipped closer until their lips were almost brushing against each other.  “Why should I?” He was smiling mischievously, gently stroking his thumb up and down the inside of Patrick’s thigh, whose breath was coming out in long, stuttering gasps. Pete leaned towards his ear and gently bit the lobe before whispering “ _Give me a good reason why I should fuck you here and now.”_ Patrick shivered in his grasp and let out a pathetic little moan as he jerked his hips upwards, desperate for friction.  
“Ah ah ah, stay still.” He immediately did as he was told.  
“Now.” Pete removed his hand from its spot over Patrick’s dick, causing him to sigh in protest, and moved it to his face, cupping the smaller man’s jaw with both hands. “Give me a good reason.” He gently fluttered his lips across Patrick’s, it was barely a kiss.  
“Well…” Patrick sounded hoarse. _Fuck._ “Seeing as we’re getting married, I guess we need to get used to doing this on a more regular basis.” He was trying to keep his voice calm and steady, but in reality it sounded like it was driving over a bumpy road. Pete raised his eyebrows “even more regularly? You greedy little bitch.” He heard the gulp that followed that remark. “Please, Pete.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.  
“Better.” Pete finally let their mouths connect properly as he slipped Patrick’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled his bow tie apart. He could tell he was doing everything to hold his sweaty hands back from tearing at Pete’s clothes too desperately. Pete took a few steps back when he’d completely stripped his fiancé of all his clothes and let his eyes wander across his body. Patrick awkwardly tried to cover as much of it possible by draping his arms around his torso, he was still uncomfortable with his appearance, even after years and years of constant reassurance. It frustrated Pete sometimes, not for his, but for Patrick’s sake. He was the most beautiful creature on this planet and he didn’t realize it.  
“Pete…” He shook himself out of his daze when Patrick squirmed uncomfortably. „Sorry. You’re beautiful.“ He said as he took his hands, causing Patrick to blush. Pete led him toward their shared bedroom, mainly because that’s where they had the, as he liked to call it, _big boys’ bag_ , which he immediately reached for once he had pushed Patrick onto one of the lower bunks nobody was using – it was at times like this he was very glad Joe and Andy had opted to take their own, separate bus – and started rummaging around, his brain desperately working to come up with something to make up for the fact that he’d forgotten their anniversary _again_   . He stopped and looked up when he felt a hand on his wrist. “Please, nothing too elaborate, you can make it up to me some other time. I just want you.” Pete nodded when he looked into Patrick’s baby blue eyes and fished out the usual: A condom and the lube. Pete took off his shoes, socks, trousers and pants, but left his upper body clothed as he climbed into bed with Patrick, who had rid himself of his glasses. Pete flicked open the lube and spread some over the pads of his fingers before leaning over him and kissing him deeply. Patrick squeaked a little when Pete pushed a finger in him and carefully started moving it before adding a second. The sight of the tiny blond man wriggling against the mattress below him could honestly be enough to send Pete over the edge at times, but he could control himself. Just about.

Once he’d decided Patrick was loose enough, he removed his hand and placed it next to his head, propping himself up as he slowly pushed in. Patrick was biting his lip, trying desperately not to make a sound when Pete started moving at a steady pace, not yet going all the way in, allowing Patrick enough time to adjust. Maybe partly to wind him up.  
His white shirt was sticking to his already sweaty torso and his jacket was making him unnecessarily warm but he kinda liked this situation, so he kept them both on, but loosened the tie around his neck with his left hand. “Damn it Pete, stop teasing me!” Patrick complained as he paused whilst doing so. Pete raised his eyebrows. “This not enough for you?” he bent down so his lips tickled Patrick’s neck as he spoke “You want it harder?” He whimpered and Pete nipped his soft skin before pulling back, and out, teasing a frustrated moan out of him. “Pete, Pete, please.” He liked hot and flustered little Patrick, lying all spread out for him, skin red, dick redder, but he also liked the sight of him on his knees, chest pressed against the bed, face sunk into the cushion, as he flipped him over. Pete’s hand gripped Patrick’s hips tight as he started slamming into him again, provoking loud moans that Patrick couldn’t hold back anymore.  
“Oh god, oh god, Trick,” Pete gasped against his back, “you feel so good, baby.” Patrick clenched and he let out a whimper. Pete felt him shift below him as he rocked back against his now quick, sharp thrusts and the sound, the smell, the feeling and the sight of Patrick was too much for him as he just let go. “Fuck, _fuck”_ he exclaimed as he came hard.  
Pete let himself slide out and sat back, leaning against the foot of the bunk. It was just about big enough for the two of them. Patrick rolled onto his back, dick still hard as he wrapped his hand around it. Pete, having rid himself of the condom, batted it away. “Let me.”  
He loved every sound Patrick made as he licked, sucked and mouthed at his cock until he came, long and loud, down the back of his throat.  
It wasn’t a problem, they were both clean, Pete just knew Patrick was more comfortable if he used protection when fucking him and he wasn’t gonna argue with that, even though he did hope that he’d be allowed to find out what his partner felt like without one day.

For now, they lay side-by-side in the single bed, Pete still wearing half his clothes, wrapped around each other, fingers intertwined, foreheads touching. Patrick raised Pete’s left hand and brought the silver ring he was wearing to his lips. “Love you.” He said, quietly. Pete grinned. “I love you too, Trick. Try and get some sleep.” Patrick wriggled until he was lying with his back to Pete, who wrapped his arms around him from behind. He actually preferred being the smaller spoon, but he guessed he still owed Patrick for forgetting about their anniversary. _Again._

It was about 3 a. m. when Pete managed to sneak outside without waking Patrick. He’d shuffled a little as Pete slipped out of the bunk, but he’d wrapped his arms around the pillow and settled back down, leaving a smile on Pete’s face. He’d put on a little weight again and Pete loved it.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and a deck chair from behind their sofa and took them both outside.  
The chair was set up at the back of the parking lot, facing the small, wooded area behind the carpark, so that Pete didn’t get the feeling he was in a big city. He slumped in it and sipped his drink. The sky was clear and starry, it was early autumn so sunrise was about three hours off, he guessed. He huddled into his pullover well, Patrick’s pullover. The scent of it made him smile, even more so now he knew he’d have him forever.  
_See, Pete,_ he thought to himself, _there is somebody who wants to spend eternity with you._ He played with the ring on his finger, the one still carrying the imprint of Patrick’s lips against the silver.  
He looked up at the stars. _Life seems almost enchanted after all._

He’d always loved those words, coming from anybody else, they would have sounded cheesy, cliché, but the fact that such a hopeful statement, such a dreamer’s statement could come from such a broken man kept Pete going. Just because you’re broken doesn’t mean you’re not magic.  
_Infinity on high._ _Infinity. Patrick._

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

 

Pete woke to somebody shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes, still distant from reality, he smiled at Joe who was standing in front of him. _Why did he feel so happy again? Oh, yeah._ But the smile slipped off his face when his senses began working again and he registered Joe’s expression, it was desperate, panicky almost, hurt.  
“Pete! _Pete!_ Come on, we gotta go, we gotta clear the area!” Pete shook his head. Joe’s faced was bathed in an orange glow. “Wha-“  
“Come on Pete, please, come!” Pete got up and blindly ran after Joe until they stopped on the other side of the street opposite the parking lot. Pete turned around and his breathing stopped. Three busses were in flames. Smoke was hiding most of the ground from view and flames were licking upwards towards the clear night’s sky. Pete turned to see Joe and Andy and Marcus and- he spun around, checking his other side, but he wasn’t there either. Pete pushed through the crowd of people, panic rising in his chest. Where was he?  
“Patrick?! _Patrick?!”_ He was desperately yelling when he felt an arm on his hand and spun around in relief. “Thank god, I thought yo-“

His face fell when he saw tattoos running up the arm. “I’m sorry, Pete.” Andy sounded sympathetic, too sympathetic, too resigned. Pete glanced up at what used to be their bus, the fire had engulfed the metal flame and blackened it completely. “No, no, no, no, no, they have to get him out! Andy! He must be somewhere! He’ll uhhh… he’ll have left when he noticed what was happening!”

“Without warning any of us? Doesn’t sound very Patrick, does it?”  
“well then he’s in the crowd somewhere, somebody pulled him out!”  
Andy shook his head. “I’m sorry, Pete. We looked everywhere, we’ve screamed and yelled our throats out.”  
No, no Pete wasn’t giving up. He blinked back the tears threatening to break free. “Well then somebody needs to get him!”  
“Do you really think anybody who was on that bus is still alive? Pete? Pete!” Andy was shaking him again. “Pete, I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Patrick’s gone.”  
Pete didn’t notice the crack in Andy’s voice or the dried tears on his face. He didn’t notice Joe’s red, puffy eyes or runny nose. He was too numb. He pulled away and ran.

He didn’t know where to.

He didn’t know where he was going.

He just ran.

 


	2. A Scar Away From Falling Apart

 

The next few weeks were easily the worst of his life.  
Pete barely left his house. Hell, he barely left the bed. He had entire days where he’d wake up, stare at the ceiling all day, and then go back to sleep. He just wanted to sleep. At least it gave him something to do, even though it wasn’t exactly a relief either.  
Sometimes friends or family came round, but their words just washed over him without impact. He didn’t care. He wanted to die. The only reason he didn’t was because he couldn’t be bothered.  
The only time he’d actually paid any attention was when Joe showed up to talk about funeral arrangements.

“Next week. I expect you’ll be there, you really should, you know. It might do you good to get out, anyway.” Pete didn’t move. “Look, Pete, I know you two were together, hell, you were more than that, you were best friends. We were all rooting for you, you know how I am – was… with Patrick, how protective. But you made him happy, you really did and I don’t think you could have done any better than that.” Pete swallowed the lump in his throat. “But he was my friend too. He’d want you to get up and carry on, Pete, he wouldn’t wanna see you locked away up here, on your own.”  
“Yeah well, he’s not here is he?” Pete muttered in response. Joe sighed heavily. “I know, I know he isn’t” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I miss him, too, Pete.”  
“You weren’t gonna marry him.” Joe seemed surprised. “What?! Did you ask him? Did he say yes?” Pete made himself shake his head. “He asked me. I said yes.” He wrapped his hand around the ring he’d slipped off his finger.  
He lay there, letting the silence that was pushing aside Joe’s words thoroughly engulf him in the hope that it might drag him away somewhere where Patrick would be waiting. It took quite a while for his band mate to find the ability to articulate himself. “wow. Pete, I’m- I’m so sorry. Man…” Pete shrugged. “’s okay. Nothing left to do anyway, is there?”  
“I just think that’s all the more reason for you to get up and carry on with life, sitting up here on your own isn’t helping anybody, Pete.” He sighed. “Leave me alone, Joe.”  
“No, you’ve been alone for like ten days, you know where this is leading, do you really wanna end up like that again?” _All messed up?_ He knew it was what Joe was thinking, even though he didn’t say it in so many words. Pete didn’t care. He was already a mess. When he was a mess, he turned to Patrick. Patrick was dead. He let the single tear roll down the side of his face freely, what did he care if Joe saw him crying? Not like he hadn’t before and anyway, it was obvious he was upset, why try to hide it for the sake of nothing but fucking masculinity? The cold metal of the ring dug into his hand as he pressed it further into his palm, it was the only thing keeping him from spiralling out of control.  
“You should maybe go and pick out flowers, Patricia will be doing that on Wednesday, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind some company.”  
_Fuck._ Pete had totally forgotten about Patrick’s family. His parents. They must be distraught.  
As though he’d read his mind, Joe continued: “She’s doing surprisingly well. Obviously not happy, you wouldn’t exactly expect her to be, having just lost her son and all…” He glanced at Pete to observe his reaction, “but she’d holding up, keeping busy, yanno, keeping her head above water. I think she needs to. Andy and me have been getting quite a few cakes, I think she some for you, too, but you never answer your phone. Or the door, for that matter.”  
This much was true. Joe and Andy both had keys to their – his – house and came and went whenever they pleased, but if Patrick’s mother had tried to visit, there was no way to tell.  
“What’s she doing in LA?” Pete managed to ask, his voice just about holding up. “Seriously? Pete, he son just died in a fuckin fire, she had questions. Also I think she likes being around us, well, Andy and me. I think she can pretend he’s just out for work or whatever that way. You’re not the only one hurting, and let me tell you, she’s doing a much better job of it than you are.” Pete rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration, “Yeah well she doesn’t have fuckin depression.”  
Joe scoffed at that remark and Pete was immediately torn between realizing how inappropriate his comment was and the fact that he had a point, it wasn’t like he could turn this on and off or like he chose this. Joe knew, he knew Joe knew, and he knew Joe didn’t mean to sound heartless and cold, he knew Joe was very pragmatic and though he respected and did his absolute best to support Pete’s mental health, he didn’t understand. He never held that against him, it was hard to understand when you’d never been in that position yourself. Patrick understood.  
“He was her child, Pete. As much as I am sure you loved Patrick, you never loved him the way she did.”

“Love.” Pete interjected as Joe was walking out of the room, making him turn around and look at him in confusion. “I still love him.”  
“I know. We all do.”  
And then he was alone again.

But Joe’s visit must have had some effect, because by the evening, Pete had actually got up and had a shower for the first time in over a week. He went downstairs and pulled his nose up at the mess that once was their living room and was now his personal rubbish tip. He at least managed to rid the place of plates of half-eaten, rotting food before summoning up the courage-slash-energy to call his favourite pizza service.  
“Just the one today?” Pete felt a lump in his throat as he placed his order. “Just the one.” He quickly hung up to avoid any more questions. His current tactic was _don’t think about Patrick and you’ll be okay_. Keeping his head above water. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a start. No  
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hovered over Patricia Stumph’s number for a few minutes before deciding he couldn’t deal with that right now and called Meagan instead. She picked up after three rings.  
_“Pete?”_ He felt a lot better for hearing her voice.  
“Hey, am I disturbing you right now?”  
_“Uh, no, no not at all,”_ that was a total lie but he was too much of a selfish dick to call her out on it, _“how are you doing?”_ She sounded sympathetic and Pete sighed heavily.  
“You already know then, huh?”  
_“Joe told me.”_ Of course he did. _“D’you want me to come round?”_ Pete nodded, forgetting he couldn’t be seen. “Yeah, yeah, if you could. Please.” He heard her shuffling around on the other end of the line and a man’s voice protest, but she shushed him. _“I’ll be there in like 20 minutes.”_ She said and hung up without saying bye.  
Pete slopped onto the couch, knowing full well he wouldn’t get up again, but he guessed it was a step up from his dark musky bedroom. Meagan would let herself in, she had a key, she was the person he trusted most in the world. After Patrick. Pete was staring at the photo on the mantelpiece, the four of them back in 2003, after some show in some back-alley underground club or other. They looked so incredibly young, huge grins plastered across their faces, thinking they’d made it because they were playing in front of, what, 100 kids? Pete regretted his stupid brightly coloured t-shirts and his horrid flared jeans almost more than his 2008 wardrobe and that was saying something. Andy’s hair was the most fabulous thing he’d ever seen, or ever would see, probably, his unframed glasses sitting on his nose awkwardly, totally ruining the punk rock image he was going for, whilst Joe was just… Joe, as always. Joe had always taken the safe route when it came to looks and honestly, he was the only one without any regrets in that department. Pete tore his eyes away before he got to Patrick, his stupid knitted hat sitting crooked on his stupid orange-blond hair and his stupidly broad grin plastered across his stupid pale face. Pete knew what he looked like on the photo, he’d spent hours staring at him.  
So much different than the Patrick shooting him an annoyed glare from his lock screen, and somehow still the same person. Pete quickly threw his phone across the room, not being able to bear the round face frowning at him from its display and knowing he’d never touch it again.

He couldn’t even bury his body.

Meagan arrived ten minutes later, carrying a cold pizza she’d found on the doorstep, to find Pete curled up in front of the sofa, arms hugging his knees and his face hidden behind them, rocking back and forth and sobbing inconsolably.

They ended up sitting in the little makeshift home cinema Patrick had insisted upon installing when they’d first bought the house, some Disney film babbling away in the background as Meagan ate her popcorn with her left hand whilst calmingly stroking Pete’s hair with her right. His head was resting in her lap, his body spread out along the rest of the couch.

 _“Patrick, if we’re gonna have a cinema room, we might as well have actual cinema chairs!” Pete had argued vehemently, but Patrick, as per, was being a stubborn mule, standing his ground and shaking his head determined. “No, this isn’t a cinema, it’s a home cinema and I want a couch, Pete! At least one, the rest can be chairs.” Pete rolled his eyes in frustration. “How many fucking seats do you want? We don’t even have enough friends to fill them!”_  
“You might not!” Patrick scoffed “some of us haven’t been supreme dicks most of their life.” This was ridiculous, he was getting way too worked up over this and he knew it, and it drove Pete mad when he did it. “Why do you always get so hooked on irrelevant details? You’re so fucking fussy, Trick, for god’s sake, this is why we went on hiatus in the first place!” _Patrick raised his eyebrows “we went on hiatus because you couldn’t give me the fucking space I needed!” That was downright bullshit, Pete wasn’t gonna take the blame for that, but pointing that out only made Patrick insist that he’d been the one to quit in the first place. “Well where’s the logic in that?” Pete shot back immediately, “if I’d been annoying you, wouldn’t you have quit?” Patrick’s face turned scarlet and Pete felt triumph rising to his chest, knowing that this was Stump for ‘shit I’ve lost’. “Well you didn’t do a good job staying away, did you?” he barked instead, indicating the semi-decorated house they were in the process of moving into together. Pete had to laugh, despite, or maybe because of, the angry look on Patrick’s little face. He hadn’t, no. He’d gone a grand total of three months before contacting Patrick as regularly as usual and a record of five months without cuddling up to him before finally giving in and kissing him after ten._  
Patrick’s bleached hair was a stark contrast to his bright red face and Pete couldn’t help but find it adorable, knowing he’d won this fight, but also knowing his boyfriend was having a hard enough time with his album as it was, without Pete adding insult to injury, so he bowed his head as though in defeat. “No, you’re right, I didn’t.” Patrick seemed a little taken aback by the fact that Pete hadn’t picked up the gauntlet. “Guess you’re just too irresistible.” He got an, admittedly deserved, sarcastic look for that. “That was corny as heck, Pete.” He just shrugged, “what can I say, apparently that happens when you’re in love.” Patrick raised an eyebrow at him, “Well, provided you have a heart, of course.” He took a few steps closer, deliberately sauntering. “Excuse you,” Patrick argued, “if anybody here is heartless, it’s you.” Pete hummed in response and gently kissed him. “I love you, Trick.” He whispered into his ear before moving to his neck and gently nibbling it, but he stopped when he felt two small hands firmly pressing against his chest. He bent back and looked Patrick in the eye. Into his baby blue eyes. Or were they green? “Not now.” He said and Pete nodded, slightly disappointed, but he’d live. Patrick shifted away from the wall he was leaning against and took a few steps into the room so his back was facing Pete. “If we get a couch,” he asked, “Can I fuck you on it?” He saw Patrick’s back jolt a little as he giggled. “Yes Pete,” he replied, his voice sounding a little amused, if resigned, “you can fuck me on our home cinema couch.”

***

When Pete woke up, he was still lying in the same spot, his hair was still tangled in Meagan’s hand, but the room was bathed in a blue light from the menu screen that was playing on repeat and the steady breathing of her sleep accompanied the never-ending loop of 30 second music. He tried to move without disturbing her, but she woke up when he silenced the large TV. Meagan looked around dazed and confused before rubbing her eyes, spreading mascara all down her face. She met Pete’s gaze and smiled at him. “Wow, must have dozed off!” he nodded in confirmation as her arms sunk back to her sides from their position of stretching. “How late is it?” Pete made a move for his phone before remembering the spot where it lay, broken or not, in the corner of the living room. “12.30 a. m., wow, I really should get home.”  
Pete grabbed her wrist when she made a move for the door and gave her his best puppy eyes. “Please stay.” Meagan paused in front of the couch before sighing in defeat and sacking back into it heavily. “Don’t think we’re turning this into a regular thing, Wentz.” She emphasized as he crawled back into her lap and the next movie started playing.  
“Y’know,” he said, after a good half hour of nothing but cartoon babbling filling the room, “in another life, I bet we would have made a great couple.” She downright barked out a laugh at his comment, but when she’d calmed down she nodded. “In another life, where I’m not with James and you’re not into dick.” Pete frowned at that. “I’ve had girlfriends, I’m into both.”  
“Okay, where you’re not into Patrick’s dick.” The second the words left her mouth, her face fell and she looked down at his pained features. “Sorry, that just… I didn’t think.” Pete shook his head and tried to articulate something along the lines of “it’s okay”, but he was already too far back in his misery to get the words out. “Look, Pete, maybe, maybe I should just go,” she suggested after another half hour of awkward silence. Pete thought about it. Did he want that? Did he want to be left alone with his thoughts in this empty house where he was waiting for Patrick to come waltzing back in at any moment? Did he really, really want that?  
“No please, stay.” The fact that she didn’t argue at all was what Pete loved about her, she was the kind of person to really stick around when you needed somebody to be there and just put up with your crap. Even better, when you were done with feeling like shit, she wouldn’t mention it again. He felt safe with Meagan.

Another good thing about her was that she never pushed you to talk. He’d often creep into her apartment after an argument with Patrick, and she’d just patiently wait for him to tell her what had happened without urging him to spit it out, and if he didn’t tell her, she didn’t ask.  
But this time he felt he needed to talk.  
He didn’t know what to say, so he lay in her lap, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, she didn’t look down at him, but he knew she could tell he was trying to get this weight off his chest by the way her hand moved to his back and stroked it encouragingly.  
Finally, after what seemed like half an eternity of struggling with words that usually flowed out of his mouth like an unstoppable waterfall, his voice came out in a hushed tone, “I thought… I just thought I’d won him. I just got used to the idea of spending forever with him.” Her long fingers curled back into the short hair above his ear as she soothingly hushed him. “I was so ready to, you know, I would… I would have given anything for it. If he’d asked me, I would have stopped making music, hell, I think I would even have agreed to having a kid or two.” Meagan chuckled, the feeling of her stomach bobbing against his head strangely soothing. “You? A kid?” Pete managed to force a small smile. “Why not? Patrick could be the good, sensible one that teaches all the manners and insists on a strict bedtime routine, and I could be the one that sits them in front of the TV when they get annoying.” He cleared his throat and the happy expression that had wormed its way onto his face immediately dropped when he corrected himself, “could have been. I miss him so much already.”  
“Shhh, I know, I know.” Pete didn’t try to hold back the tears that pricked in the corners of his eyes, he didn’t care, he certainly knew she didn’t. She just steadily stroked his head as he cried to himself. He was so sick of crying. So sick of it.  
“I should probably pay you.” He announced out of the blue and looked up at Meagan’s frowning face, “you don’t happen to know how much a shrink makes an hour?” She laughed at his lousy attempt at a joke, he didn’t know how real it was, but he was thankful none the less.

“You’re my friend, Pete. This is my job.” He sniffed pathetically. “I know. Thanks. Sorry I’m such a lousy one.”  
“Pete, if you were a lousy friend, you wouldn’t be my friend. Call me self-indulged but I have a pretty good taste in friends.” She was trying so hard to cheer him up and keep his mind off things, she was the third best thing that had ever happened to him and he was incredibly grateful for that.

It was honestly a relief not waking up alone in the morning. Pete was still crushed, felt his world imploding around him, felt depression eating away at his brain, felt his will to live drain from him as it had done every morning for the past few days, but at least Meagan was already at the foot of the bed holding a bowl of cereal and a glass of water. She’d stayed over, holding him all night, waking up every time he started sobbing and gently stroking his hair again. He owed her a lot.  
“Do you wanna call James?” he asked as he slowly made himself eat the food he’d been given. “Already done. I explained the situation, he’s cool with me staying as long as I’m home tonight.” Pete nodded, understanding. He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood. Obviously.

Having a friend around helped a lot more than Pete had thought it would, and he quietly thanked Joe for kicking his ass, though he would never ever actually say that to his face. He still exclusively wore sweatpants and hoodies, but at least he was occasionally changing his sweatpants and hoodies. Meagan didn’t show up on the third day, making Pete’s heart sink a little as he once again faced the silence and loneliness that was now his home, but before he could fall too far into his pit of self-pity, Andy showed up with gross vegan pizza and delicious pepperoni pizza, which improved Pete’s mood way more than it probably should have.

What didn’t improve his mood was the way Andy was silently judging him for not making _any_ funeral arrangements. He knew this was probably Joe’s doing, he’d probably bullied Andy beforehand, instructing him to give Pete a guilty conscience about the fact that he was leaving a grieving mother do all the work by herself. Or maybe it was just the way he was interpreting Andy’s glances towards the piles of mess spread throughout the house that was way too large for a single person. Whichever, it made him actually grow enough balls to press _call_ on Patricia’s number.  
He was fighting the urge to hang up after the second ring.

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

 _“Hello, dear.”_ Pete swallowed heavily, she sounded… tired. Exhausted, actually. But she didn’t sound as bad as he felt. Did he? _“Are you there Pete?”_ Realizing that he was moving his mouth but not actually making a sound, Pete hastily cleared his throat. “Y-yeah.” His voice sounded high and rusty, like he hadn’t used it for a while. “Hi, mom.” He wasn’t aware of what he said until Andy told him after the call.  
_“How have you been doing, honey? Joe told me you’ve not been taking care  of yourself, you need to eat well.”_ Pete felt guilty. Really guilty. This was Patrick’s mother, she was hurting just as much as him and yet here she was, concerned for _him,_ and all he was doing was, well, be concerned for himself. “Yeah, I’m-“ he glanced at Andy who was giving him an encouraging thumbs-up “I’m not great, honestly, I’m really not, I’m not going to pretend I am, but… I think I’ll hold up. I didn’t know if I would, I was sure I’d… that I might not be able to pull through this. To be honest, I’m still not 100% if I wanna, but I will. I think.” And then, noticing this was just about him again, as always, quickly added “You?”  
She paused for a moment, trying to find a way to say “really not okay at all but I’m trying to be because I owe it to him,” before settling with _“It is what it is, we’ve gotta live with it.”_ Pete found that surprisingly encouraging and suddenly felt the overwhelming need to meet her and hug it out.  
“Hey, uhm, Joe told me to hit you up if I wanted to weigh in on florals;” Pete really didn’t give a fuck about flowers and he knew Patrick couldn’t care any less, his only request had been “Jesus Peter, if I die before you, don’t you fucking dare play my own music and my own funeral, I will rise out of that casket just to pull you down with me,” and in all honesty, that sounded really fucking tempting at this point. He might consider it. Although he had the nagging feeling that, once dead, him and Patrick would be in two different elevators heading in two very different directions.  
_“Yes, that’s right. I’ll be going tomorrow evening, they couldn’t book me the day after so they might not be as fresh on Tuesday… I hope he won’t mind…”_ she drifted off as though the state of freshness on the flowers on his casket would be something seriously concerning Patrick at this point. Pete wished it were. He wished to God it were. He wished it so hard his heart physically hurt so much he put a hand on his chest, provoking a questioning-come-concerned look from Andy.  
“I’m sure he’d understand, anyway, it’s the bastard’s own stupid fault for his timing, he could’ve waited till at least summer to kick the bucket, right?” Pete forced a chuckle and he heard her do the same, but he could tell that she was finding it just as hard as he was. He’d been so damned selfish.  
“What time tomorrow?”  
_“Oh, 5 p. m., that nice once near the cinema, you know, where he’d get me a bouquet when he picked me up from the airport.”_ Pete heard her voice break and she let out a long, staggered breath, trying to control her emotions. _“Anyway,”_ Patricia continued, very matter-of-factly, _“I’ll see you then?”_  
“Yeah, sure. Take care of yourself, alright?”  
_“You too, darling.”_ She said before hanging up.

Pete stared at Patrick scowling up to him from his lock screen and couldn’t suppress the wail that rose up his throat. He pulled his feet onto the sofa and hugged his knees, burying his face in his arms as he sobbed loudly, frantically, only stopping for breath when his reflex made him.

It was ugly.

He didn’t care.

He was faintly aware of Andy’s hand on his back, stroking a soothing pattern, but his head was just filled with Patrick.

The stupid little kid with the stupid hat and the stupid shorts and the stupid argyle sweater sat at his stupid drum kit in his stupid house.

Pete had teased him so much, probably more than was funny, but he didn’t mean it nastily, he loved him from the second he saw him. Not in the way he loved him now, not in the way he’d loved him five years ago, not in the way he’d loved him when he sang to thousands of people, hiding behind some trucker hat or other and a mane of messy hair or the way he’d loved him when he’d sat beside a weeping Pete on the roof of a shitty motel, not talking, not touching, just sitting there, making sure he’d see the sun rise.

The kid that had always been his best friend.

He lifted his head, eyes sore and puffy and looked at Andy who had an empathetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry,” Pete choked, “I’m… you’re helping, you really are, I don’t know… I’d probably be dead without you guys, but I’m just, Jesus, Andy, it hurts so much.”  
Andy, always sparing when it came to words, just continued rubbing his back. “I know. You’ll be okay.” Was all he said, but it was sincere, Pete knew it was. If he wanted a long-ass speech, he’d call Joe, right now, Andy was all he needed.

He’d be okay.

Even if he didn’t want to be, even if it hurt.

He had no choice. And he didn’t know whether that made it better or worse.

***

Pete honestly felt bad for his appearance the next day. Patricia had made an effort to wear a casual, but nice dress and had tied her hair back, whilst Pete came slobbing over to her in the same hoodie and sweatpants he’d slept in. He’d woken up in a terrible state, worse than the last few days. Good job he wasn’t going to be marrying her son anymore, he doubted she would have let him had she seen him like this.  
Did she know?  
Did she know that in another life she would have been his mother?  
Pete toyed with the ring he wore on a chain around his neck through his hoodie, he didn’t know why he couldn’t wear it normally, maybe because he wasn’t getting married after all.  
Or maybe because he wanted that bit of Patrick he still had left closer to his heart. He’d become so cheesy and corny, he hated it, he hated who he was becoming, it reminded him too much of 2005 emo Pete but without fancy words to hide his candidness behind. He felt exposed.

Patricia smiled at him as warmly as she could when she spotted him and opened her mouth to speak, but Pete just wrapped his dirty, stinking body around hers. They were in plain view of anybody who wanted to stare, but somehow the outside world didn’t matter anymore. He felt the soft cotton dampen beneath his eyes as tears soaked through it and was consoled only by the fact that he wasn’t the only one losing control over his emotions.  
In the end, he would never feel her pain, she was his mother. She shouldn’t be around longer than her children.  
In the end, they must have stood there, crying their hearts out to each other in the middle of the pavement, for about twenty minutes, before Patricia peeled herself away and fished a packet of tissues out of her handbag, offering Pete one as well. He wiped his eyes and nose and stuffed the sodden rag up his sleeve before offering her his arm. She took it, her face kind and walked into the shop.

***

It wasn’t like you’d imagine a funeral.

Pete stood by the open grave, next to Patricia and what remained of her children and near Patrick’s dad David, whom he hadn’t seen since before the tour. They’d greeted each other with a tight, meaningful hug, as though David had never kept a close eye on him in the past. Mutual pain makes small differences seem irrelevant.  
Joe and Andy were standing just behind him, a reassurance, but Pete mainly felt better for Meagan standing next to him. He’d asked if he could bring her for moral support, and of course nobody had argued, even if there had been questioning looks from more distant acquaintances of the Stumphs’ when she’d held his hand through the whole sermon.  
Pete didn’t care.

She was now his best friend in the whole world.

It was a warm, pretty autumn day, the leaves golden on the trees, the sun clear in the sky, it’s rays not obscured by a single cloud. Patrick had always loved these crisp autumn days, he’d spent more time outside on days like this than he would throughout the entire summer.

 _“It’s hot outside Pete, we have ventilation here!” Pete tugged at his arm, “yeah but Joe has a pool!” Patrick rolled his eyes at him “I’m not going to a pool party with a load of strangers, you know it makes me feel uncomfortable.” Pete pouted at him, “pleeeease!”_  
“I’m not stopping you from going, am I?” He turned back to his keyboard, tapping about, trying to figure out a new tune to match the lyrics Pete had handed him the day before. He regretted that now. “Spoil sport.” He crossed his arms and demonstratively sulked in the corner of the studio. Unsuccessfully. Patrick either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to waste his time on discussing the matter with Pete, and he got bored after about five minutes, standing up and pacing around before balancing one of Patrick’s numerous vintage guitars on his lap and blindly plucking the strings.  
“I’m not stopping you, Pete, really! If you wanna go get drunk and skinny dip with a bunch of strangers, you do that I really don’t care.” Pete sighed heavily, letting his right arm fall off the strings. Patrick genuinely didn’t care, he could tell. “Come onnnn, please. You’ve been in here for days, you’ve never spent so much time in here! Not since your album.” Patrick was in his own bubble, now clicking around on his laptop. Pete set the instrument down and wandered over to him. He wrapped his arms around his neck from behind and bent down, giving Patrick a quick peck on the temple. “What are you up to?” he pestered. When Patrick met his gaze, his eyes were glowing. “Pete, this is good, this is really… I mean, not quite there yet, but we can work with this!” Pete grinned. After his downer, well, downer was an understatement, after his solo album, Patrick had stayed away from music. Seeing him here, where he belonged, amongst tech and instruments and lyrics and melodies and chords and beats, made Pete’s heart flutter hopefully. “You planning your next album?” And then it hit him. “Wait, we?” Patrick nodded enthusiastically. “I wanna get the bend back together!” Pete’s grin broadened even more “well thank god I was hoping you’d make that decision soon, I was getting bored.” Patrick frowned at him through his thick, horn-rimmed glasses. “Why didn’t you say something?” Pete shrugged, “I didn’t wanna push you. After Soul Punk, I guessed, I don’t know, you needed a little time to find it again yourself.” He nodded, “do you think the others will be up for it?” Pete shrugged “I guess, I mean, I don’t think they’re touring or anything now, it’s worth a shot, right?” Happy nods jerked Patrick’s grinning head. “And you know how we can best do that?” Pete opened up his arms and stood up, “in person at Joe’s stupid party.” He held out a hand, and to his surprise, Patrick took it, if a little reluctantly.

The coffin had remained closed throughout the entire ceremony, mainly because nobody had any idea if there was anything in it. If so, it couldn’t be a lot more than blackened bones and the thought alone made Pete’s stomach churn.  
Somehow, the entire procedure wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. There was a lot of weeping, a lot of goodbyes, some more sincere than others, and Pete had his hand shaken by a lot of unknown faces. He was wearing the ring normally. He felt he owed at least that much to Patrick.  
The sound of soil hitting the top of the wooden box whatever remained of Patrick was in made Pete feel sick and he left before they were even half way through the line of people awaiting their turn to contribute to letting him disappear underground forever.  
He sat down on a bench at the edge of a small, wooded area at the back of the graveyard, from where he could see the light-grey headstone shining in the sunlight, and the gold of the lettering glint at him obnoxiously. He could also see Joe, Andy and Meagan looking for him, but he was quite happy on his own here.  
Except he wasn’t alone.  
Pete was suddenly eerily aware of something next to him, and somehow he couldn’t bring himself to turn and look at it. A shiver shot down his spine and he suddenly felt very, very cold.  
“Who are you?” He asked, not knowing what would be worse: Nothing replying and him thinking he was losing his mind or something replying and him knowing he had.  
“That doesn’t matter.” He swallowed heavily. He still couldn’t turn his head. It was almost like he didn’t _want_ to. “You want him back.” The voice was cold steel, horrible, artificial. “Obviously. But that’s… not gonna happen.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Pete’s heart fluttered, if out of fear or hope he didn’t know. “I can tell you this much, there is a way to get things back on track. It won’t always be easy and I can’t guarantee it will end the way you hope.” Pete doesn’t care, he’s not even listening properly, all he wants, all he needs is to see Patrick, at least one more time, just to tell him once more that he’s loved, so, _so_ loved. He never got to hear it enough.  
“How?”  
The icy laugh made Pete want to tear his ears out. His gut was telling him this was ridiculous, this was his brain finally giving up on him, after all these years of fucking around, it was really packing in for good.

But the words that followed the laugh were almost worse.

“You’re going to have to go through hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, thank you for reading! I hope you like it, please feel free to leave a comment, it would mean a lot :) The next one may take a while because I need to finish two chapter to figure out which order to put them in, but that means the one after shouldn't take too long.  
> I've got an outline, I totally know where this is going and I know the structure, I've just gotta actually write it, and figure out the order of the next two.  
> Anyway, have a nice next few days, I'll see ya soon!

**Author's Note:**

> So, there will probably be ~5 parts to this, I've written two so far, but I'm on holiday sooo I have time to write, don't worry :) If you think I need any more tags on this, please let me know! (TW and stuff like that)  
> Let me know what you think and I'll post part two in the next few days :) Thanks guys!


End file.
